Page 162 of A Touch of Poison
61
Kat
“Think we can climb?” I eyed the rocks—they seemed craggy enough for footholds.
“That, or fight.” Bastian dismounted, shooting a glare back the way we’d come. “Your choice.”
The thunder of hooves shook from the forest, thrumming into my feet as I landed.
Not long to decide.
Climbing would leave us as easy targets against the grey cliff face. No cover whatsoever. They’d pick us off in an instant.
Not much of a choice.
Swallowing, I unclipped my bow and quiver from the saddle. Not a matter of bravery. Just desperation.
He drew his shadowy sword and sent the stags back into the forest.
“Tennacht,” I commanded, and my bowstring pulled taut, the magic humming in my blood. My pulse leapt at every point as we took cover behind some boulders at the foot of the cliff. For half my life I’d carried a pistol, but I could count on one hand the number of times I’d fired itatsomeone. And only once had I killed.
“You stay under cover,” Bastian gritted out, shadows unspooling around his feet in a dense clump as he watched the forest’s edge. “If… if you find yourself alone, surrender. Then, the first chance you get, poison your guards and run. Understood?”
“But—”
“Understood?”
If you find yourself alone—he meant, if he was dead. I swallowed and strapped the quiver to my back. I wasn’t going to let that happen, so his plan was purely hypothetical and I felt no guilt in replying, “I understand.”
He blurred and I had to blink away the uncomfortable sensation of seeing double as he split in two. Cloaked in shadows, one part of Bastian crept into the trees.
I nocked an arrow and waited.
Blood roared in my ears like the fight had already begun. My palms sweated into my gloves.
“You can do this, ember.”
I jolted at his use of that name here and now.
“Your fire isn’t just for me.” His teeth bared in a vicious smile. “I look forward to seeing it destroy them all.”
A muffled cry came from the forest to the right where his double had gone. I had no time to peer over and wonder what had happened, because an instant later, a wave of arrows flew from the trees.
We hugged the rock as they clattered against it. Bastian held my gaze, a determined frown in place. “Wait for it,” he whispered.
I squeezed my bow, watching arrows skewer the ground just beyond our cover. If my supply ran out, I might be able to use some of them.
The moment the clattering eased, Bastian nodded and broke for the trees to the left.
Drawing, I stood. It took a second to spot a fae amongst the trees.
Aim, exhale, release.
A cry said I’d hit.
I was already nocking my next arrow, searching for my next target.
I fired and fired in that pattern, ducking back as stray arrows clipped the boulder and flew inches from my face.
